


First Love

by Nisaki



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Time, M/M, Possessive Dean Winchester, Pre-Series, Sam is 17, Weecest, brief af sam/ofc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-22 13:28:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22716778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nisaki/pseuds/Nisaki
Summary: Fill for LaughableLament's prompt: pre-series, some nerdy little girl has an instant, devastating crush on 17yo Sam Which is hilarious. Sam is eggplant-embarrassed all the time. This girl is the only person Dean's ever met who is more awkward and backward than Sam. He's here for it; it's perfect...Until it's N O T.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 24
Kudos: 196





	First Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LaughableLament](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaughableLament/gifts).



> Happy Valentine Laughable, you've been everything I've need, especially these past few months and I can never do or say enough so I'll just go with: Thank you and I love you.
> 
> Thanks to I'm [Amberdreams](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amberdreams/pseuds/Amberdreams) for the beta.

The first time Dean sees her, Sam is walking her out of the school building. Dean is there to pick Sam up. _ I don’t need you to pick me up Dean, I’m not a little kid anymore. _

Whatever, Sammy.

Sam is a head shorter than Dean even with his last growth spurt, although Dean is expecting that won’t last long with how fast Sam is shooting up.  _ Like weed, Sammy. Shut up, Dean.  _ The girl reaches to his clavicle. Small stature, big glasses, brown hair up in a cute ponytail. The books she’s holding to her chest seem massive in comparison to her, but she’s hugging them close like they’re made of gold. A complete nerd. Fucking figures. 

He honks and Sam’s face turns to him, smile lifting up his lips even though Dean knows he’s gonna bitch about being picked up. 

“Who’s your girl?” Dean asks as Sam settles in. Slams the door. Dean guns the engine. 

“A friend.” 

“She’s cute.”

“Dean--”

“-- I know, you’re celibate for life.” From the corner of his eye, he catches Sam blushing and he feels his chest filling up with something. Possibly delight at embarrassing his little brother like he’s supposed to do. 

He drops the matter, until Sam’s little friend makes it to their home (read dump of the month) to study with Sam. And only two real nerds would be studying a week away from prom while everyone else is preparing for it. A week away from Sam’s seventeenth birthday. Dammit his brother really needs some action.

Dean walks in on them studying, like for real studying, books and shit all around them, completely focused. He scowls at Sam. 

“Dean!” Sam squeaks. “I thought you were working late!”

Dean narrows his eyes, “Not like you guys are doing anything fun.” 

Sam sputters, the girl blushes so hard Dean wants to laugh. 

“I should go!” She springs up from the couch and starts gathering her stuff, Sam looking at her helplessly then glaring at Dean.

“Hey hey, no need. I’ll make myself scarce.” After all, this could be the only girl in existence more awkward and backward than Sam, the least Dean can do is let them be to...have nerdy talks. 

He throws a last look at them, sees them blushy and not looking at each other and they’re just studying. God. These two will get married and never have babies cause they’re too nerdy to have sex and his little brother will be a virgin forever. 

* * *

They’re doing drills next weekend, and for the first time in forever, Sam doesn’t complain about it. No  _ Dad is not here why should we _ , no nothing, Just gets up and runs with Dean and then when they’re back, he silently rearranges the furniture so they could spar. 

Dean is suspicious but he doesn’t comment, no need to look a horse gift in the mouth. It’s later when he’s got Sam pinned under him, squirming and panting that he notices. Sam turns his head to the side, in attempt to wiggle out of Dean’s hold, and Dean catches the edge of something red, right where Sam’s collar is sliding down his chest. 

He freezes. Thoughts coming to a halt as he stares at the skin revealed. He can’t see it now, because the t-shirt is back to where it was, and Sam isn’t wiggling anymore. He’s saying something, maybe admitting defeat, waiting for Dean to get off of him. 

Dean watches, entranced as his hand moves of its own accord, figers hook in Sam’s collar and pull it down. Sam gasps, Dean’s breath leaves him.

A red mark, round and clear, just under Sam’s collarbone. 

“Is that a hickey?” Dean asks. He can’t recognise his voice, scratchy, angry. The mark can’t be anything else. 

“Dean!” Sam is yanking at his wrist, trying to move Dean’s hand away, Dean lets go of his t-shirt for just a second. Takes both Sam’s wrists in his hand and pins them above Sam’s head. Pushing down on them to tell Sam to stop damn wiggling. He plants himself firmly, sitting down on Sam’s hips and squeezing his legs so Sam can’t move his own. 

He can’t take his eyes off the damn hickey, the mark of ownership that someone has placed on his brother. His breathing becomes erratic and he feels hot all over, unhinged and wild, like he’s this close from doing something stupid. He racks Sam’s shirt up, heart going mad as he sees more marks on Sam’s torso. Something rumbles in his chest, an animalistic noise and he wasn’t to put his hands around the neck of whoever did this and sque--

“Dean?”

Sam looks at him with wide eyes and messed hair, with his t-shirt as it is, with the red marks all over him, it almost looks like Dean did this to him. 

Like Dean attached his lips to untouched skin and marked it up. 

But it wasn’t him.

“ _ Dean _ .”

He snaps out of it, scrumbles up and away so fast he’s impressed he doesn’t fall down. Sam stays where he is, staring at Dean, t-shirt stuck under his pits and his forearms over his head like he’s offering himself up, his face flushed and his breathing heavy. Air rushes out of Dean’s lungs, his vision blurs until he can only see Sam. Spread on the floor and tempting enough to damn a holy man to hell.

Dean runs out of the house. 

* * *

The waitress in the diner isn’t as pretty as he remembers, but still flirty and easy enough. He puts on his best smile and she giggles, but all he can think of is Sam, at home. Maybe not alone.

Sam with his nerdy friend straddling his hips, leaving marks on his chest. Sam’s dick in her mouth, or maybe she’s riding him on their couch. Sam has his eyes closed, head thrown back, neck exposed. Moaning. Maybe he’d let her finger him, would Sam be into that?

He looks like he might be, probably was all blushy and shy as she ate him up. All those marks.

How would Sam look, thighs spread and stuffed full of fingers? The girl’s too small, her fingers can’t be good enough. Sam would be frustrated, he’d shake and grunt. Head moving side to side on the pillow as he pushes back on Dean’s finge--

Dean gets up. The waitress startles. He’s forgotten she's still talking to him.

“Sorry.” He’s not. Gotta get back to Sam. Make sure she’s not there, make sure Sam isn’t letting her touch him again. Fuck.

He drives too fast, and he’s not sure what he’d do once he’s home. He still breathes in relief when he arrives, runs to the door and pushes it open like he’s expecting to walk in on something. 

Sam’s on the couch,i n grey sweats and one of Dean's t-shirts that's too large for Sam's skinny frame . His hair is curling near his ears, wet ends dripping onto his neck. He’s curled up, back to one arm, legs on the couch, knees up and he’s got a book in his hands. He lifts his eyes, smiles at Dean, dimples make Dean’s heart melt. And fuck this isn’t new, this weakness in the knees because Sammy is smiling at him, the irrational need to go and sit behind Sam and just hug him as he reads. 

Dean takes a breath, kicks off his shoes, hangs up his jacket and heads to the room. He retrieves a clean towel, stands beside the couch and starts drying Sam’s hair properly. Sam cranes his head to the back, looks up at him.

“You gotta dry it well or you’ll catch a cold.”

Sam stares for a while. Dean waits for a sarcastic  _ thanks mom _ , or  _ not a kid, Dean _ . But what he gets is a charming smile, and a subtle nod. 

Once he’s done, he throws the towel over the back of the couch and drops down near Sam’s feet. Sam glances at him, stretches his legs, both of them ending up on Dean’s thighs. Sam gives him a grin before he turns back to his book again. 

This isn't new either; the way he's always been mesmerized by Sam . The line of his neck, his collarbone, his beauty marks. 

That damn hickey. 

He blinks, Sam is closer. His long fingers curling under Dean’s chin, then his eyes catch Sam’s. He’s got a soft smile, a shine in his eyes.

“Where are you looking?” He’s close enough for his warm breath to puff against Dean’s cheek. 

“No...nowhere.” And now he’s stuttering. Great. Smooth. 

Sam considers him for a few seconds then he sighs; disappointed. He makes to move but Dean stops him. Both arms acting without consulting his brain, one wrapping around Sam’s waist. His other hand settles on Sam’s thigh.

Sam’s eyes drop down to where Dean’s hand is, spanned around one thigh and his breath hitches. A subtle arch in Dean’s direction, then both his hands are on Dean’s shoulders and that’s all Dean wants, all he needs. 

He grips harder, forces Sam’s legs to open, then straddle him. Sam is looking down at him, his teeth in his bottom lip, eyes half lidded. Dean gets lost for a moment, in the swirling colours of his eyes, thick lashes, the way his hair falls around his face. 

“Sammy…” 

“I’m sure, Dean.” Sam says, and before Dean can ask again Sam sits on his lap, grinds his ass against Dean’s dick. He lets out a small “Ah,” skinny arms wrapping tighter around Dean’s neck and Dean loses it. All rational thought, all patience and hesitancy and whatever the fuck was stopping him burns with hot desire and he threads his hands in Sam’s hair and kisses him for all he’s worth. 

Sam gasps into his mouth, opens wide and lets Dean lick inside. It makes him dizzy, he’s kissing Sam. Sam, he’s kissing Sam. And no matter how many times he repeats it in his head he still can’t believe it, because he’s kissing Sam and it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him. 

“Dean,” Sam says, wiggling on his lap, making him harder. Dean grip his hips, hisses as Sam bites over his neck. Keeps trying to move. Sam’s hands settle over his, and he moves Dean’s lower, puts them over his ass, pushes back into them.

“Here, Dean,” he whispers, “touch me like this.” He tightens his hold over Dean’s hand, and Dean kneads Sam’s ass globes. Sam moans, rocks harder. 

Dean’s hips buck up on their own, and he groans at the feel. Sam moves faster, grinds down, rubs his erection against Dean’s abdomen. Sam’s panting next to his ear, little gasps and choked off moans, the way he’s moving his hips is uncoordinated,  _ inexperienced _ . Dean didn’t figure himself out for a possessive asshole but the fact that he might be Sam’s first is going to his head. He feels drunk on it, can’t get past it. 

“Sammy,” he says, kissing Sam's neck. Sam’s unmarked neck, grazing his teeth against where the collar slides down and reveals a bit of shoulder. He sinks his teeth in, and Sam whimpers, digs his knees harder into the couch, thrusts faster.

“Are you a virgin, Sammy?” 

“Dean,” Sam whines, but he’s blushing harder than before and Dean grins. He’s sure now, just needs to hear it.

He sucks Sam’s earlobe, gnaws at it, licks over the shell then blows over it, enjoying the shiver he elicits out of Sam. It’s too hot between them, smells like sweat and the faint, sweetness of Sam’s shampoo. 

“Tell me, Sam. Am I your first?” He sneaks his hands into Sam’s boxers, grips his ass and parts it, Sam kisses him, but he’s too excited to make it last. 

“Sammy.” He brushes his fingers against Sam’s hole, just a tease, but Sam spasms in his arms, moan so loud it echoes. Dean removes his hands then, places them by his sides and grins up at the betrayed-dizzy expression on Sam’s face. 

“You  _ are _ , you’re my first love, now please-”

“What?” Dean nearly jolts up, hands back on Sam’s hips, Sam moans, knocks his forehead to Dean’s. 

“You got your answer, now touch me.” Sam sounds prissy as hell, not like he just dumped... _ That _ on Dean. Dean’s heart decides to beat out of rhythm, too fast. Dean is sure it’ll give out. 

First Love.

Love.

“Sammy,” he rasps, wraps his arms around Sam and holds him tight. Sam holds back, confused nose in the back of his throat, and Dean doesn’t know what to do with himself. He’s happy, he realizes. The happiest he’s ever been.

He attaches their lips, kisses Sam open-mouthed and dirty, places his hand down Sam’s fly and grips his dick. Sam jerks, moans, starts thrusting into Dean’s fist. It doesn’t take long, he shakes and falls apart. Gasping for breath, then slumping over Dean. He grinds his ass down again, licking along Dean's neck, trying to help him. Dean holds his hips, fucks up, mindless, almost delirious until he comes too. 

They’re both panting, too hot but still clinging. Place smells like sex. Dean’s heart won’t settle. He sweeps his fingers through Sam’s hair, tugs gently and Sam follows, shows his throat. Pliant and easy. Dean sucks a mark there, right under his jaw where everybody would be able to see. 

“Just me,” he breathes against the bruise, licks over it. Sam nods. 

“Long as it’s just me.”

“Promise, Sammy.” 

-End

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is love. I'm [Nisaki](https://nisaki-chan.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, come say hi!


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